


Unfixable

by hungrydean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 09:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16365398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hungrydean/pseuds/hungrydean
Summary: It’s as if what happened hasn’t quite struck to him yet, but it’s already pressing down on him, cold and hard.





	Unfixable

“I’ll drive the truck.” Dean’s voice wavers. He can barely hold onto the words, his mind a blur of chaotic disbelief and pain. It’s as if what happened hasn’t quite struck to him yet, but it’s already pressing down on him, cold and hard. It feels as if he’s stuck under the ice and he can’t break free, deafened by the cold and silence of the freezing water surrounding him.

He shivers. Looking away from his brother, he clears his throat, but the lump doesn’t leave. “You can take Cas and- drive the Impala back to the bunker.” Castiel’s name is nothing more than a whisper.

“Dean, are you sure-”

“I’ll see you at the bunker.”

He can’t feel anything as he walks through the dark, back to the lake. The truck is just an empty vehicle stained with painful memories that Dean wants to forget but is so afraid to lose. Dean can see the keys in the lock and he gets in, still shivering.

The door closes with an echoing bang. As soon as Dean is alone in the empty car, it gets worse. In here, the scent of Castiel still lingers. Earth and the sweet scent of flowers after rain, a gentle smell that belonged to the angel. Dean is forced to breathe it in and accept it with every inhalation.

Castiel is dead. 

Dean grips the wheel and stares at it, determined to push this feeling away and drive back to the bunker so he can take a shower and get a beer with Sam. His lips begin to tremble. His eyes get blurry and before he can withhold it, tears begin to trickle down his cheeks.

“Cas…” he chokes, but he can’t speak properly. Within a few seconds, his shoulders are quivering and he starts to cry. He presses his forehead against the wheel and holds it, sobbing with irregular gasps for air, the pain he’d been trying to hold suddenly flooding him.

-

Sam knows his brother isn’t okay when he walks off towards the truck. He wouldn’t even need to be around Dean to know that. Sam isn’t okay either, but at least he’s accepting that he isn’t. Dean doesn’t want to show how much things hurt, not even to Sam or himself.

But Cas just died. Sam isn’t able to think clearly, he doesn’t know what he should do. He just wants to lay down where he’s standing right now, in the sand, close his eyes and forget everything until it’s all over and his mind is cleared. He doesn’t want to feel anything, but the image of Cas falling down, grace disappearing through his chest, his eyes, the silent scream… it won’t leave his mind. 

Castiel is dead. Sam bites down his lip and clenches his fists. Then, he gets to work. He finds an old plaid blanket in the back of the Impala. He lays Castiel in the backseat and covers him with the plaid. It feels too wrong to put him in the trunk, too uncaring and definitive. For Sam, it’s as if Castiel is just sleeping. That moment they saw him appear just before Lucifer stabbed him, Sam had felt comfort. Castiel was there, he knew more than them and could do more than them and whenever Cas was around, Sam knew there was always a way out. He knew that ever since Castiel had brought Dean back from hell, and he was convinced when he had taken away Sam’s visions of Lucifer. But fear now clouded all hope and possibilities and Cas would never be there to give it back to him.

When Sam found out Eileen had died, he only wanted one thing. To not be alone. As much as he said he didn’t, acted like he didn’t need Dean, he’d ached for someone with him, a living person to give him the idea that hope was still a thing. The thought of Eileen still makes it feel like multiple daggers are slammed into his chest and he hisses, the sudden sound loud in this quiet, empty place.

Dean should’ve already left with the truck by now. Sam just didn’t have the guts to actually drive away with Castiel’s body just yet, but the silence makes him realize that Dean hasn’t left yet, either.

He locks the Impala and gets to the pickup truck that, as he suspected, hasn’t moved yet. When he is just a few feet away, he can see Dean sitting in the driver’s seat, his arms on the wheel and his head pressed against it. Sam walks over to the other side and gets in quietly, neither hesitating nor saying a word. Dean doesn’t look up and only stirs when Sam puts an arm on his back. He rubs it, slowly and unsure. Sam has seen Dean cry before, but never like this. He’s giving into it completely and Sam finally knows how it looks when Dean accept that he’s in pain.

“Dean,” he says and his voice breaks at the sight of his strong, older brother falling apart with grief. “I wish we could fix this.”

It’s not the ethical way to answer, it’s not the ‘I can’t imagine what you’re going through’, the ‘I’m here for you’. It’s the raw truth. It’s harsh and painful and feels heavy on Sam’s tongue. But neither of them is okay, and neither of them can pretend to.

“Sam- Sammy,” Dean stammers, “I… I can’t- he’s… he…” Sam pulls Dean into his arms. Despite Sam being taller, Dean still always feels bigger and stronger. But now he doesn’t look big at all. He hides into his brother’s arms with his face pressed into his shoulder, tears soaking Sam’s shirt. Sam pulls him closer and tries to say something, but tears drip into Dean’s hair.

“I know,” he says.

Holding Dean tight, Sam stares outside into the darkness and tries to find a silhouette. He wishes to see a figure in a trench coat walking up to them so he can tell Dean to look around and get out of the car to reunite with Cas. But no one appears. 

Sam doesn’t know how long they will sit like this. Maybe ten minutes, another hour, the entire night until dawn starts to wake up nature and birds will sing as if nothing happened. But he knows that no matter how long, it won’t fill the empty place that belongs to Castiel. It can’t fix the laugh that Dean won’t burst into, the smile that won’t appear on Sam’s face.

Some things can’t be soothed, some scars never fade. Mourning will come later, maybe too late. The Winchesters are way too familiar with death taking away those they care for. And this time, it took too much.


End file.
